Page 49 of Born for Lace

Tomar and Lagos.Spero.

The names come back with clarity. Just as I lift my hand to rub my eyes, something slides along my forearm like a thin snake.

I look down at my body. A black shirt swallows me. Oh, that’s right—it’s Lagos’ shirt. Did he… undress me?

A tube, with a clear fluid, lays over my arm. I follow it to the back of my hand, where it disappears beneath a strip of tape and into my flesh.

Panic surges inside me. “What is that?”

I follow the other end until I see a bag hanging from a rail. Whatever is inside it is going into my veins. I’ve seen this before… The memory helps me settle. In the Lace House, a girl named Banksia was mauled by a cat, and they administered medicine directly into her veins.

Then I hear, “We could have taken the infant to the Common Community without her.”

That’s Lagos.

Stilling my every muscle and breath, I wait silently and listen to the voice outside the room.

I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty for eavesdropping. Spero is mine, so any conversation involving him is mine to hear. I try sitting again, but a pang of pain strikes just below my breast, warning me to make each move with grace and caution.

“We could have left her with the Marshals. Now we have an extra burden with a damn broken rib and annoying voice.”

Broken rib?

I cup my side and wince.

Annoying voice?!

I scowl at the closed door. And I know I should be grateful to him. He didn’t have to help me, didn’t have to put himself in danger for me. But he did. He saved me.

He’s still mean.

“She wasmeantto be the mother,” Tomar states, his voice flat…Tooflat. Is he unwell? “She was meant to be lactating, so he would have food as we cross the desert.” His sigh is heavy, and I can almost feel it from here.

“But she isn’t the mother, is she?” There is a heavy pause. “Go rest. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” With that, footsteps fall outside the door just before it opens.

I am glaring at the gap that Lagos now fills, burning a hole into his bare chest.

“Just the welcome I expected.” He smirks. “Are you in pain or just that pleased to see me?” He strides in, all those muscles rippling with each step. It’s male—so very male, and I despise how much I want to feel them beneath my fingertips.

I hold my rib and cut my gaze to the bag on the rail. “What is in there?”

“Fluids,” he grunts. “And Opi.”

I glance at the needle under my skin. “Did you put this inside me?” A shiver rushes along my spine at the thought of him caring for me while I sleep. Of him touching me gently. Of his hand on mine.

Removing my soiled clothes…

“No.” He slumps to the floor, severing that unwelcome vision.

Through a slight wince, I peer over the edge of the bed to find a green, thin rollout mattress on the floor.

“Tomar did it,” he adds.

Lifting his knees, he makes his huge body somehow fit into the space on the floor.

I watch without moving. “What are you… What are you doing?”

He cups the back of his head. “Resting.”

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